


and they were mates (oh my god they were mates)

by gayships



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Angst, BAMF Stiles, Break Up, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Back Together, Hurt Derek, Hurt Stiles, Kid Fic, M/M, Mage Stiles Stilinski, Mates, Mpreg, Parenthood, Running Away, Slow Burn, Werewolf Mates, dubious consent for katexderek, stiles and derk grow up together, stiles is a strong independent omega who doesnt NEED an alpha but could probably use one, strange cats who probably know the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-04-23 02:16:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14322357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayships/pseuds/gayships
Summary: Dad,I can’t be here anymore. I’m broken. There’s something wrong with me.Derek doesn’t love me. He won’t ever be happy with me. He wants Kate. I know me and him are supposed to get married and have children and all of that, but he doesn’t want that. I know that’s disappointing.  But it’s my fault. I’m a mistake- I don’t deserve to be part of the Hale pack, and I don’t deserve Derek.I was going to tell Derek about it, but I know it’ll just be a burden. Please don’t tell him, but I’m pregnant. I’m sure about it- and I know you didn’t want me to sleep with him until we were older, but I wanted it. And he gave it to me, even though he probably didn’t want to. Tell him I’m sorry for that.I’m sorry about the money I took. I thought I would need it. I don’t know where I’m going, but I’ll be okay. Don’t look for me. I don’t want to be found.I love you.Stiles.________________________They don’t find him.





	1. prologue

When he thinks back on it, Stiles cannot pinpoint a moment he fell in love with Derek Hale. 

 

They had grown up together- had pretty much known they were mates before Stiles was even born. Not much else could explain a werewolf toddler suddenly becoming absolutely obsessed with a pregnant friend of his mothers. Talia and Claudia had been ecstatic, obviously- by the time they were done drawing up the plans for Stiles’ nursery, they were already starting the plans for their sons’ wedding. 

 

Stiles had immediately been drawn to Derek. Despite the age gap, Derek always found a way to enjoy playing with Stiles. Talia Hale has a picture somewhere of a three year old direct with Stiles strapped onto his back with a complex series of ropes. Apparently Derek was very proud of himself for the feat. Typical little Alpha, trying to carry his Omega around with him and protect him. 

 

When Stiles was a little older, the two boys got into plenty of trouble together. The first time Derek ever shifted was when he was five years old and terrified. But something in him had known that Stiles was scared, too, at that just wouldn’t do. So Derek’s face had warped into something animalistic and he had _growled_ so loudly that it did indeed scare off the snake they had both been so terrified of that day. 

 

Throughout their young lives, it became a common sight to see Derek sprinting across the huge yard in front of the Hale house, Stiles clinging to his back, usually clutching some sort of makeshift sword and screaming at the top of their lungs, off to fight monsters that were not there. They were the perfect pair- Alpha and Omega, running off to fight the world. 

 

The Hale house was a good place for a child to grow up. Packs are different than humans- they are somehow a combination between a village, a family, and something more. They are all connected by these strings that could not be explained to anyone else if they took a lifetime to do it. Being born pack- it is like having a permanent home. As Talia Hale often said when children or teenagers were having a particular rebellious phase and tried to distance themselves, “It’s like a tattoo- you can’t scrub it off.”

 

Overall, their childhood’s were happy. They were spent as anyone would expect young mates- holding hands and running off to defeat villains, sharing blushing first kisses in tree houses older than themselves, and helping one another limp home on sprained ankles. (Or, in Derek’s case, the only time he needed help was when the ankle was _broken.)_

 

The first bad thing that ever happened to them was when Stiles’ mom got sick. 

 

It felt like a harsh reminder to Talia- almost every member of the pack was a werewolf, so she had never really seen someone die of anything but old age. And yet, here was her best friend, the woman she was supposed to be a grandmother with, smelling like iron and radiation and a deep, incurable tiredness that would never go away. 

 

It gave Talia the urge to rip it out of Claudia. 

 

But nothing could be done. No matter how many doctors, no matter how much poison they blasted into her body, no matter how many healing mages that Talia tentatively brought to see her friend. 

 

Claudia Hale died on a peaceful Wednesday evening, and Stiles Stilinski broke. 

 

He stopped coming to the pack house, stop coming to school the majority of the time, stopped _eating,_ and barely bothered to get dressed in the morning. 

 

Derek was thirteen years old and had never lost anything important to him before. He could never understand what his mate was going through, and he tried, he really did- showed up at Stiles’ house uninvited, tried to coax him into talking about it, tried to tell him how sorry he was, tried to give him photographs that his mom had found of Claudia. 

 

He never realized that that wasn’t what Stiles needed. 

 

What Stiles’ needed was Scott. Scott, who, instead of focusing on it, like a parent fussing over a child’s wound, ignored it altogether. Scott, Stiles’ sort-of-friend from school who didn’t really have any other friends because he was awkward and had asthma and Stiles _needed_ a school friend because all of the wolves were homeschooled. Stiles’ clung to him, because he wasn’t a part of the pack. He wasn’t a part of that place where his mom had spent half her life, where his mom had a whole section of the garden all to herself. 

 

Scott wouldn’t show him pictures of his dead mom. He just wanted someone to play zombie video games with and eat Cheetos. And that, that was what Stiles Stilinski needed. And, every so slowly, he started getting dressed again, even if it was only to see Scott. He started eating again, but only because Scott wanted pizza and it was weird if only Scott ate. He started going to school, because Scott was there. 

 

And eventually, he started doing those things again because he wanted to. And one day, he wanted to go back to the pack house. And he was welcomed with open arms, given by the way that Derek had tackled him that day. He had dodged, and Derek had smashed his face into the dirt. 

 

Stiles had laughed until he couldn’t breath. 

 

_________________________________

 

The very first time Talia sees Derek looking at Stiles in _that way,_ she has a very long, very embarrassing talk with her son. There are pamphlets. The basic gist: Stiles is almost three years younger than Derek, twelve to Derek’s fourteen, and he’s not ready for the things that Derek is ready for. She pretty much sends her son away with a bottle of moisturizer and tissues. 

 

So, Derek drifts. He feels sick when he does it, a little, but he reasons that he’s not actually _dating_ him, so it’s okay if he makes out with Sydney Markens at her birthday party, and it’s okay if, a few weeks later, she grinds on him in her dads loveseat until he comes. 

 

It’s okay if he hooks up with a string of omegas, and it’s okay if he loses his virginity one night, full of too-fast breathing and ‘ _ow, not there!’_ s. Stiles will never know, and the omegas don’t mean anything. Derek is a teenage alpha- he can’t help himself. Stiles would understand. 

 

Except sometimes he can’t shake the looks that the rest of the pack gives him, when he gets home after a hook-up and they can so obviously smell the stench of what he’s done on him, no matter how much he scrubs in the shower. 

 

Stiles has his first heat a week before his thirteenth birthday, and Derek tries to break down the door to the Stilinski house. There is a lot of yelling, and Derek has never seen the Sheriff so mad at his mom before, for letting him out of the house. Derek just remember being fifteen and being so intoxicated by that _scent,_ feeling out of control and sweaty. He ends up locked in a bathroom overnight, sweating out the _want_ in cold showers. He remembers coming out sheepishly, still thrumming with desire for his mate, but now able to control it. He reminds himself that Stiles is only _thirteen,_ and he’s probably scared. Derek isn’t going to be able to help him with that, no matter how much he wants to. 

 

He can wait. 

 

____________________________

 

It appears, however, that Stiles cannot. It’s the middle of the summer, and Derek is spending the night at Stiles house. Derek needed to study, and the Hale house isn’t the best for that kind of thing. Not that being around Stiles’ is any better, but at least it’s only one person talking as opposed to thirty. 

 

Derek doesn’t realize that it was deliberate until later, but Stiles is wearing a pair of short pajama shorts- the kind they only make for Omega’s, because- well, Derek doesn’t know. He’s also wearing one of Derek’s shirts- a usual occurrence nowadays that pleases the Alpha side of direct to an extreme. Adding to this, Stiles is sitting upside down in his desk chair, which causes the shirt to fall down and expose his belly, which is-to say the least- distracting to Derek. 

 

But it’s only later, when they are both laying on Stiles’ bed, Derek’s arm under Stiles’ head and their legs intertwined, that Stiles slowly, ever so slowly, reaches his hand and slides it under Derek’s shirt. 

 

And few minutes of confusion and whisper-yelling had devolved into kissing, which devolved into making out, which devolved into Stiles’ making the executive decision that they were going to have sex. Derek, being a teenage boy in bed with his mate, was completely convinced that this idea was the likes of Einstein himself. 

 

Derek remembers feeling blissful that night, with Stiles making little noises under him, his hips snapping against his own will because _god,_ it felt so good. Then, the crescendo, both of them coming together, panting in the same air and falling against eachother. 

 

Derek briefly panicked at having came inside Stiles, but Stiles quickly sated him with the information that male Omega’s can only get pregnant during heat. 

 

Derek didn’t ask where Stiles got the information. 

 

If he had asked, he might have found out the Stiles found this out from an Alpha teenage girl, who claimed it was ‘basically the same thing for them’, so if Alpha girl’s can only get pregnant during heat, that applies to Omega males, right? 

 

_____________________________________

 

Wrong. 

 

_____________________________________

 

 

Stiles is a two months from fifteen, and it was only three weeks after he gave himself to Derek that Derek meets Kate Argent. 

Kate is older, and, well, all of Derek’s friends from high school (which he and Laura and fiercely lobbied to attend) giggle and laugh when he says his mate is still in middle school. They call Stiles a kid, and say that Derek should get an older partner until Stiles is a bit older. 

 

Derek’s math teacher get’s pregnant, and Derek really isn’t paying all that much attention when the new substitute walks in. His friends crow about her being the hottest woman they’d ever seen, with long legs and blond hair and blowjob eyes. Derek’s mind, guiltily, still lingers on pale skin and long limbs and freckled moles. 

 

It’s not until one day Kate catches him after school, Laura being at band practice so he was in the back of the school, prepared to make the trek through the woods home by himself, when she stops him.

 

She asks him about Stiles, talks about how she knows the Sheriff. She expresses sympathy- says it must suck, having someone so young and inexperienced. What a teenage boy _really_ needs is someone older to guide them, she says. She notes that he probably feels creepy, with a little kid being his mate, and all. 

 

Derek had never thought to feel creepy. Sure, he knew Stiles was younger, and that that meant he had to wait for some things, and he had. Not necessarily as long as everyone would have liked, but he waited. But- when he thinks about, when he listens to the way Kate puts it- he starts to get a sick feeling when he sees his mate and thinks about what he’s done with him. Derek got the chance to have experiences outside Stiles, and Derek took that away from his mate. 

 

Stiles tries again, two days after Derek talks with Kate, and Derek pushes him away. He says that what happened was a mistake, and that he’s not going to do that kind of thing with Stiles anymore. Stiles is angry- kicks him out of the house, yells. But what’s really the worst part is when he sees his mom on the phone later with Sheriff Stilinski, and he hears the Sheriff say that Stiles had been crying all day. But Derek knows in his heart now- this is what’s right. 

 

He talks to Kate after school every day now, tells his parents that he’s getting math tutoring, tells her about his anxieties surrounding Stiles. Says that he misses him, and even though he still sees his mate, the relationship feels distant. She comforts him, coos that now isn’t the right time. That in situations like these, you have to enjoy what you have in the present and know that the future isn’t going to arrive for a long time. 

 

Two weeks into their arrangement, Kate asks to meet up outside school. Derek doesn’t see a reason why not- Kate is his friend. She’s only a couple of years older than Derek, so it’s not weird. They meet at a small restaurant and talk about Derek’s family, about his childhood. 

 

Kate runs her foot up Derek’s calf the whole time. Afterwards, in the darkened alley, she kisses him, smiling, and Derek is nervous and seventeen and he _likes it._ He would never admit it, after, but he loves the feeling of her lips on his, loves the way she takes his hands and guide them to her hips, loves the way her hair brushes against his face. 

 

It’s only two days later that Kate brings Derek to her house, and he learns that his friends were right about the blowjob eyes. 

 

_________________________________________

 

His family knows he’s seeing someone, of course. His parents don’t say anything, just give him disapproving looks when he comes home late with messy hair, stinking of Kate. It’s Laura that tells him he’s being cruel. 

 

He tells her she’s an idiot who doesn’t understand anything. 

 

He spends most of his time with Kate now, and Stiles sometimes smells of insecurity when their together, but it’s okay. Stiles was going to find an Alpha to mess around with soon, Derek could feel it. Someone who wasn’t Derek- who he could learn with. 

 

He doesn’t notice Stiles watching from the corner of the parking lot when he gets into Kate’s car one day after school. 

 

Doesn’t notice Stiles behind them on his bike, going as fast as he can to keep up.

 

Doesn’t notice him waiting outside the house while Kate lets him touch her in her bedroom, fast and hot and _amazing._

 

When he walks out of the house, Stiles is standing on his bike, just staring at him. Derek feels- he feels _guilty._ He didn’t want Stiles to know about this.

 

He remembers the words Stiles says that day, branded into his brain. 

 

“I thought you were mine.” 

 

Derek screamed, shifted in the middle of Kate’s dumb suburban neighborhood, calls Stiles a child. Tells him he doesn’t know anything, that he should stay away from Derek, that Derek doesn’t need some kid tailing him around. Says that he hates that he grew up with Stiles, wishes that they hadn’t met. Says he regrets fucking him, says it like that, like it’s something that didn’t mean anything. 

 

Derek says he’s in love with Kate, and, sickeningly, it’s true. 

  
Derek doesn’t stop until the hot, salty scent of tears fills his nostrils, until Stiles isn’t even bothering to yell back, and then he just stares at his mate. His mate, who finally, not saying a word, pedals off, leaving Derek standing in the well-trimmed front yard, alone.

 

Kate comes up behind him and tells him to come back inside.

 

He does. 

 

___________________________________

He spends the night at Kate’s house, that night, talking to her about how much it hurts. She tells him that it will all be okay, and that she loves him. She says it’s okay if it’s temporary- that they just need to enjoy what they have now. He believes her, and they have sex, slow this time, and it feels horribly like when he did this with Stiles. 

 

He wakes up in the morning with thirty three missed calls. 

 

He gets home, and the whole house reeks of anxiety. He walks up to the house, hears half of them talking on the phone, the other half asking about what’s going on or offering suggestions. 

 

Everyone goes quiet when Derek walks into the house. 

 

Talia is standing in the middle of the room, tears running down her face. She smells like anger and sadness and fear, and Derek hasn’t seen his mom cry since Mrs. Stilinski died. 

 

The words she says hurt, place every little piece of blame on him. Make him want to tear himself apart.

 

“Derek Hale, what have you done?”

 

He has never heard his mother scream, but she does. Asking him what the hell he was thinking. Tells him how reckless he was, having sex with Stiles. Tells him how cruel he was, being with Kate. Tells him that she is ashamed of him. 

 

When a werewolf baby is born, the Alpha makes them submit. It’s usually a simple process, since the baby werewolf instinctively allows the first Alpha that tries to claim them.

  
That day, Talia forces her son to his knees, and makes him submit in front of the entire Hale pack. It is something that is not done- making a pack member submit again- unless someone did something so terrible that they were at high risk of being removed from the pack. The submission is a mercy. 

 

Derek, finally, asks what had happened. 

 

Finally, slowly, Talia pulls out her phone. Hands it to him. He sees that it is open to her texts with the Sheriff. 

 

The most recent text is a photo of a note. 

 

_Dad,_

 

_I can’t be here anymore. I’m broken. There’s something wrong with me._

 

_Derek doesn’t love me. He won’t ever be happy with me. He wants Kate. I know me and him are supposed to get married and have children and all of that, but he doesn’t want that. I know that’s disappointing.But it’s my fault. I’m a mistake- I don’t deserve to be part of the Hale pack, and I don’t deserve Derek._

 

_I was going to tell Derek about it, but I know it’ll just be a burden. Please don’t tell him, but I’m pregnant. I’m sure about it- and I know you didn’t want me to sleep with him until we were older, but I wanted it. And he gave it to me, even though he probably didn’t want to. Tell him I’m sorry for that._

 

_I’m sorry about the money I took. I thought I would need it. I don’t know where I’m going, but I’ll be okay. Don’t look for me. I don’t want to be found._

 

_I love you._

 

_Stiles._

 

________________________

 

They don’t find him.


	2. shatter

 

“You look like shit.” 

 

Derek blearily glances up from where he’s slumped at his computer, having elected to take a mid-day nap- one of his favorite activities of the late.His older sister looms over him, hand on her hip, dressed for the day in a fashionable outfit consisting of dress pants and an honestly excessive amount of cleavage. 

 

He doesn’t know why she bothers. She probably isn’t doing more than going to the grocery today, considering she is a normal person who doesn’t work weekends. Unlike Derek, who is, wretchedly, self-employed, so he is accountable to only himself when he, persay, has a deadline in less than a week and still has at _least_ three chapters to write before he’s satisfied with the sequel to his first book. 

 

Still, Laura is always dressed immaculately, even if she’s just going to the grocery store. Derek, on the other hand, rarely bothers to change out of sweatpants. Sometimes he doesn’t even put on his shoes before he heads over to the pack house, where, despite having his own apartment, he spends the majority of his time.

 

“Really? I wasn’t aware.” He says, sarcastic. He doesn’t really care what Laura thinks about his appearance. It’s a constant tug of war- she wants him to be her power sibling- wants them to be hardworking business partners, taking over the world together. Derek isn’t interested in much these days besides answering emails from his publisher and procrastinating. 

 

And naps. Naps are a thing, too. 

 

“Come on, mom wants to talk with us. Apparently were taking a few refugees from a pack down south- the Bate’s. Some rogue hunters have apparently been kidnapping pack members at random. Not too big a deal, it doesn’t sound like.” Laura notes. Derek turns away from her and makes a high pitched complaining noise into his arms. _Laura_ is the future Alpha. Why should he care about pack politics? 

 

He still follows her, because apparently mom wants it. Derek probably is the most likely to listen to what his Alpha says out of all of his siblings. Laura listens, but she’s strong willed- always thinks she’s right. Which, she usually is, to be fair, but mom is usually right, too. The battle of who’s wrong is always a powerful one. Cora is a rebellious teenager who always has something better to do than what her mom wants. 

 

Derek likes making his own decisions, sure, but he’s learned over the years that his mom always knows best. 

 

They find themselves in the dining room- which also functions as the planning room, due to the excess of seats. 

 

Some of the higher ranking and older members of the pack are already in the meeting room, and Derek slides into a seat next to the current pack second- a woman named Ura who is nearly ninety years old. 

 

“Alright, now that everyone is here, we can get started.” Talia says, standing from her seat at the head of the table. She pulls out the usual necessities for meetings like these- a laptop and a large book labeled _California Pack Law Codes and Regulations._ Every pack has a book similar to it, detailing the rules of pack interactions with others, hunters, and the restrictions Alpha’s have in their control over their Betas. 

 

“Last week, the Bate’s pack sent me an email, seeking refuge for five sets of children and their parents. The rest of the pack will find refuge elsewhere, likely in some sort of human populated area, but the Bate’s preferred the safety of a werewolf pack for these families.” 

 

“The reasoning for the Bate’s packs evacuation is due to a series of kidnaps, and likely murder, of exactly seven pack members, confirmed to be facilitated by a group of rogue hunters. The rogue hunters began making threats to the Bate’s pack, making a reference to a planned massacre of the entire pack. As the group of hunters is largely armed and has numbers greater than that of the Bate’s pack, Alpha Bate made the decision to evacuate and relocate pack members, and contact allies for assistance in clearing out the Hunters.” 

 

Talia runs and hand over her own neck, then fixes her expression. 

 

“As we have the resources and, I feel, the moral obligation, I recommend that we not only take in the refugees, but also establish ourselves as enemies of the rogue hunters.” 

  
Talia appears as if she wants to say more, but the room immediately launches into an uproar.

 

“We will not risk the safety of the pack-“ 

 

“ _War_ is not an option-“ 

 

“The pack’s best interest-“ 

 

“I think mom’s right.” 

 

Laura’s voice has always drifted over a crowd as if it were amplified, and her statement brings the room to a silence. Everyone turns to her, and most wouldn’t notice, but Derek sees her swallow anxiously. 

 

“The rogue hunters are a huge group- well armed and ruthless. They have no reason to take out the Bate’s pack- they’ve been peaceful for more than two hundred years. They also aren’t more than fifty miles south from us. Who’s to say that these hunters won’t continue attacking other packs? Who’s to say that they won’t come for us next? Even if they don’t come for us. Who are we, as a pack who _can_ defeat them, if we don’t even try? The blood of any werewolves they kill is on _our_ hands. You can go ahead an believe that it’s not our problem. But deep down, you _know_ we can win this. “ Laura says, voice steady and confident. 

 

Derek looks at his sister, and he thinks, that’s who he wishes he was. He wishes he was worthy of being Laura’s second- it’s tradition for an Alpha to choose the second oldest sibling as second, but Derek knows, deep down, the Laura will always choose what is best for her pack. And Derek isn’t whats best. He doesn’t know how to command a room like her. He doesn’t know how to make rational decisions for himself, much less for over a hundred people.

 

The room is quiet for a few moments, and then Talia, beaming at her daughter, speaks once again. 

 

“Thank you, Laura. We will now take a vote. First on the refugees, then on the declaration of war.” 

 

“All those of the council who vote to extend shelter to the refugees of the Bate’s pack, raise your hand.”

 

Every hand in the room raises. There is no argument about this, at least. Taking in another pack is something the Hale’s do often enough that not many have any argument against it any longer. Talia nods. 

 

“All those of the council who vote to declare a state of war with the rogue group of hunters, raise your hand.” 

 

Derek watches as a few people raise their hands across the room. But it’s not until Ura, the most respected elder in the pack, raises a trembling hand, that over half the hands in the room shoot up. 

 

Talia smiles. 

 

_____________________

 

The refugees arrive one week later, and Derek and Laura stare, amazed, as Cora and her friends wander around posturing and preening. They probably think their subtle- getting into tussles on the front lawn to showcase their fighting abilities, going hunting when Cora usually has to be convinced with threats of cancelling the Netflix subscription, and trying to look intimidating in all ways possible. 

 

It’s normal, of course. Werewolves are instinctively territorial, and young ones usually aren’t very confident yet, so they overcompensate. They are desperate to represent their pack and make themselves look good, even if it’s just a handful of refugees who are probably simply grateful for a safe haven and could care less what a bunch of teenagers are doing. 

 

It makes a good laugh for the adults, though. Not that Derek is so far from them- he’s only twenty two and still feels the urge to show off, a little. But he easily suppresses it, and doesn’t even turn his head to look when the refugee pack arrives. He simply stays put in his perch on the couch, staring at his laptop and trying to will himself to write something, as per usual. 

 

Derek spends most of his time writing in the comfort of the Hale house, if just to be around his family and pack. His house often feels too empty- and while he knows that a wolf his age should probably spend less time around his pack, he feels the need to be around them and away from the quiet of his own home.The pack’s eyes might linger on him, might secretly pity him, just a little, but Derek can ignore that. He has to. 

 

The other pack does put him on edge. Their smell feels like an invasion- parents who reek of a horrible, bone-deep sadness, and kids who are too loud and wander around curiously, probably seeing this as more of a vacation than anything else. They probably have no idea that they might never get to go back home. 

 

For his mom, it’s a busy day, settling in the new pack, discussing the hunters, dealing with her usual duties as Alpha. But she still finds the time to sit on the arm of the couch and run her hands through his hair, tight, worried expression on her face. 

 

“Have you eaten today?” She asks, quiet enough that only they can hear. Derek doesn’t say anything, because he won’t lie to her, but he doesn’t want to eat often these days. It’s so much work just to get up and make himself a sandwich, so much work to actually sit down, so much work to put the food in his mouth. Everything is tiring, now. He longs for when he was younger and could eat _literally_ an entire deer- that had been a disgusting shower, afterwards. He just doesn’t have the appetite any more. 

 

He doesn’t really care about much now, actually. 

 

His mom sighs above him, hands drifting down to his neck to gently scent-mark him. He tilts to give her better access, because even as her son, it’s rare to get direct attention from the Alpha in a pack as large as his. He breaths in her scent, calming and intoxicating and _Alpha,_ and he feels like a child- safe and warm, nothing to worry about. 

 

“Alpha Hale?” Derek makes a sleepy noise of complaint when his mother pulls her hand away and looks up at the intruder. Derek blearily looks at the woman, who looks nervous at having interrupted such a personal moment. 

 

“I- I’m sorry to bother you. But there’s a message for you.” She says, voice shaking. She’s obviously not used to being around Alpha’s, by the looks of it. Derek’s mom scans over her tense form. 

 

“And that is?” She asks, voice flat. 

 

“Oh, no, Alpha Hale. It’s not for you. It’s for your son.” 

 

______________________

 

 

Derek glares at the mousy teenage girl sitting across from him. She wears thick, rectangular glasses, and her light brown hair is tied back into a low ponytail. She’s small, even for a human fourteen year old, and wears a sweatshirt advertising a beach summer camp. 

 

Derek watches her fold her sweatshirt over her hands and rub at the crystal ball sitting between them. He grinds his teeth- she hasn’t said a single word since the woman deposited him and his mother in here. At some point, Laura had curiously wandered in to watch to proceedings. 

 

“I heard you had something to discuss with me?” He finally grinds out, pissed off at having to wait. The girl swings her head upwards, as if just now noticing he’s there. Her glasses magnify her eyes, giving them a too-large effect. 

 

She smiles dopily at him, revealing a set of pink and yellow braces. 

 

“Oh, yes, my powers have been screeching in recognition since I first spotted you. Considering your pack’s generosity, I thought it only right to give you a small gift of gratitude in return.” She says, still smiling eerily. Efficiently, she tugs her sweatshirt sleeves up to her elbows and begins to run her hands a few inches from the surface of the crystal ball- which Derek finds ridiculous. 

 

“My name’s Alexandra. You see, I’m a mage. I haven’t decided my specification yet, but I’ve met lots of others, and so far my favorites involve animal familiars and also using the sight. When I saw you, I immediately knew you were connected to him in some way, so I did some research.” She says, and Derek watches as the crystal ball begins to emit a soft, purple light. 

 

“Him?” He asks, confused. She grins and nods frantically. 

“Him!” She says, as if that is some sort of answer. “Oh, I’m so excited, you know, he’s one of the most powerful mage’s I’ve ever met. But it seemed like he was gone in an instant, so mysterious, you know. I always wanted to know more about him, and here we are!” She says, then furrows her brows for a moment, staring at the ball. 

 

“I don’t understand. Who are you talking about?” Derek asks, a little pissed off. He feels like he’s being played with by this little girl. 

 

“Oh, your mate, of course! I immediately knew you were his when I saw you, and I was so surprised! I thought he had to be a solitary Omega, unmated, but here you are! Very stubborn-“

She starts, but when her words process, the entire room turns to ice. Derek feels as if everything has stopped- the word _mate_ in relation to him hasn’t been used in _years._

 

Derek sees his mother from the corner of the room, looking as if she’s prepared to step in, but he blurts before she can.   
  
“He’s _alive?”_ He asks, gobsmacked. Everyone had always assumed- the search for Stiles was _nationwide._ A fifteen year old pregnant omega shouldn’t have gotten far- it was assumed that Stiles had ended up kidnapped and- as Derek had long ago accepted- dead. Of course there was something in him that _hoped-_ but he wasn’t like the Sheriff, who still occasionally went into frantic states of searching for his son. 

 

Alexandra blinks, and briefly, her scent turns anxious. 

 

“Oh dear- I, I knew you two weren’t in contact, but I thought he had at _least_ informed you that he was- oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know-“ She says, stuttering. She looks panicky, suddenly, no longer the confident teen she had presented herself as. 

 

“Where is he?” Derek asks, voice even and commanding. He feels the shift coming on- suppresses it, if only for his mother, who is still looming in the corner. Alexandra doesn’t answer for a moment, just keeps rubbing at her crystal ball nervously. “I’m not going to repeat myself again. Where. Is. He?” Derek says, angrier. 

 

When she doesn’t answer again, Derek stands up, shoving the table back slightly. The younger girl grabs her crystal ball frantically to keep it from rolling off the table from the jostling. 

 

“Derek.” He hears his mother say from the corner, but he _can’t._ Stiles is _alive._ His wolf wants to tear the world apart. He needs him. Some part of him that hasn’t been awake in years is suddenly up and ready to go. He feels- he feels seventeen and lost and angry and heartbroken. He feels _everything_ that he had worked so long to suppress finding it’s way back to the surface. 

 

“Um- I’m, sorry, I’m not actually sure where he is? I mean, mage’s are hard to track. I can- I can _maybe_ show you what he’s doing right at this moment. Nothing too extravagant- he won’t be able to see or hear us, and-“ She begins, trying to placate the wolf in front of her. 

 

“Do it.” Derek cuts the young girl off, placing his hands on the table. His body is tense- he wants to be searching for Stiles. He’s so certain- Stiles _needs_ him. He needs to be with Stiles. He’s probably lost- probably so hurt. He’s been alone for so long, and Derek doesn’t want him to be alone any longer. 

 

Alexandra nods quickly and ducks her head, obviously intimidated. She gently lays her hands on the crystal ball, and slowly, Derek sits back down. The ball begins to glow more strongly, the purple fading to a bright white. 

 

For a moment, nothing happens. 

 

Then the image flickers- from what bright white, to a shiny, mirror-like appearance, and finally, something else. Soft noises that Derek can barely hear come from the ball, muffled, as if underwater. Derek tilts his head. 

 

Derek feels his heart stop, for a moment, when he sees him.

 

The ball shows a table strewn with books, a teenage girl studiously taking notes and scribbling in them. It appears she has claimed a small section of table to herself, which is neat and organized. The rest of the table appears to have become a small hurricane- papers, some crumpled, some not, lay around, most of them scribbled on in indiscernible chicken-scratch. Books are stacked precariously, multiple left open to random pages.

 

Derek doesn’t notice any of that, though. 

 

His eyes are fixated on the boy, one arm flung across the entire length of the table, the other one hugged closer to his body, his head resting on the crook it creates. He’s tapping against the table absentmindedly, looking incredibly bored. His hair long- Stiles had always had his hair shaved, when he was a kid. He never wanted to stay in the shower long enough to wash it, Derek remembers. 

 

Derek can’t stop drinking in the _details._ Stiles, and the ratty black t-shirt he’s wearing that looks comfortable and well worn. Stiles, and the little moles dotting his arms. Stiles, and the way his limbs seem to have gotten longer and thinner over the years. Stiles- sitting up stock-straight, as if suddenly spooked. 

 

Looking towards where the camera would be, if the crystal ball were one. 

 

Derek gets a glimpse of those golden brown eyes, just a glimpse, before the entire crystal ball turns white- whiter than he’s seen it go yet, so bright it hurts his eyes- and then shatters. 

 

Large chunks fly across the room, and Talia leaps to protect Alexandra from the shards. Derek only stays, frozen in shock, even as a few pieces of glass lodge themselves in his arm.

 

“Derek.” His mothers soft, quiet voice is what breaks him out of his reverie. 

 

He whips his gaze towards her, eyes wet with unshed tears. 

 

“We have to find him.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jsyn, the narrator is UNRELIABLE here. dereks thoughts and feelings do not reflect the truth. it's just the mindset he's in, and no, i don't agree with it. i know it's a pretty large time skip, but i think it's important to the story and important in the characterization of stiles in this story. hope you liked! sorry if theres typos/errors, i'll get to editing my stories someday (never). theres going to be alot of grey morality and miscommunication in this so if your not into that, sorry lol .


	3. three

Derek is not a patient man. 

 

They spend weeks searching for him. 

 

Searching for any trace of Stiles Stilinski. Any trace of the boy that the pack had tried so hard to put behind them. 

 

They only come up with traces- traces of a powerful mage, shrouded in mystery. Some claim him to be a ruthless killer- caring about nothing but himself. And some, like the Bate’s pack, say that he is kind, that although they only met him in passing, he had beamed at a twelve year old Alexandra and gave her the phone numbers of a few teachers- people who would go on to help Alexandra tame the spark that had been burning her apart as her family could do nothing but watch. 

 

Derek doesn’t _understand_ it. Stiles is _powerful,_ apparently. There are multiple prices on his head, people willing to pay endless amounts of money just to know his mate’s _name._ But nobody had ever noticed- Stiles had never shown any signs of anything supernatural in the slightest. Granted, Derek had never really met a magic user except in passing- but his mother should have recognized it. 

 

And Derek can’t reconcile that image of a heartbroken fifteen year old Omega with this infamous figure. Derek wonders if Stiles somehow- somehow acquired his magic, and then he wonders what his mate had to pay for it. Wonders why Stiles hasn’t come back to him.

 

“I think he’s being held against his will.” 

 

Derek stands over the table, where his family is gloomily eating breakfast. Cora is asleep on the table top, and even Laura is still in her pajamas, drooling in her sausage. The renewed search for Stiles has taken a toll on the entire Hale family.

 

“Derek, please, eat your breakfast.” He hears, and he turns and frowns at his mother, who immediately starts trying to coax a plate into her sons hands. Derek takes it, if only to eliminate the tired look in his Alpha’s eyes. He doesn’t move to sit, just stands, gripping his plate and frowning. 

 

“It’s the only explanation. He wasn’t born with his magic- so we know he had to have gotten it somehow. So he probably made a deal. He would have come back if he could.” Derek says, urgent to make her understand. He needs to get to Stiles. 

 

“See, I think that he probably sleeping rough, something along those lines, and maybe as a last ditch effort he sought the help of some kind of- I don’t know, a sorcerer.” While his mouth is open, his mother shoves a sausage in his mouth. He continues to talk as he chews. “Anyways, they probably gave him so vague deal that he took, and it gave him powers, but also put him under their control. And that’s why he hasn’t come back.” Derek finishes, looking back at his Alpha for approval. 

 

She just looks at him with worried eyes, and it makes him _angry._

  
“What? You’ve given up again? God, Mom, this is my _mate._ Your best friends _child._ How can you just pretend-“ Derek starts, prepared to go through all means necessary to convince his Alpha of this. 

 

“Derek, I sent for a tracker.” she says, then goes back to swirling a spoon in her oatmeal. Derek pauses in his rant. 

 

“A what?” he asks. 

 

“A tracker, darling. A mage who specializes in finding people that don’t want to be found. She said she could do it. She’ll be here in a week.” His mother says, final. Derek stands for a moment, feeling idiotic for not coming up with the idea. He’s at a loss for what to say, trying to think of a way to thank his mom for helping him to fix the mistake he made so long ago. 

 

“Sit down, Derek.” His mom says. Derek does. 

 

He eats his breakfast. 

 

______________________________________

 

The tracker is a woman a few years older than his mom, and she reeks of magic. She is decked in a coat that has hundreds of tiny vials strapped to it, in a variety of colors. They smell _terrible._ Derek can barely stand to be within ten feet of her, even when outside. Her hair is completely grayed and surrounds her head like a cloud in a storm. Her skin is wrinkled and a dull brown color that reminds Derek of tree bark. Her glasses make her eyes the size of golfballs. He immediately dislikes her. 

 

The woman is staring intently at the manila folder they had given her with all the information they had on Stiles- as he was, and all the information they had on him now. She runs a too-sharp fingernail down a picture of him and Stiles from when he was thirteen- Stiles holding a football to his chest, obviously having just pulled it away from Derek, who had made to kick it, his mate left sputtering on the ground. Derek hadn’t gotten the reference. 

 

“Five thousand.” She says, voice flat. Laura chokes from the corner of the room. 

 

“Done.” Derek says, prepared to use a good portion of his inheritance on this. His mother, as always, has to step it. 

 

“What the hell do you mean, five thousand?” She says, hands on her hips, frowning down at the woman. The witch rolls her eyes and shuts the folder, standing and meeting eyes with Talia. 

 

“I mean, five thousand. Your boy doesn’t want to be found. There’s a reason nobody knows who the hell he is. It’s because he’s _powerful._ And when he gets found, he sure as hell isn’t gonna be happy about it. It’s going to take at least a thousand of my resources to even _summon_ the bastard, and the pure magical labor- I’ll be out for days. Not to mention the fact that he’ll probably put a curse on me just for meddling with him.” she says, voice scratchy but matter-of-fact. Talia just keeps frowning. 

 

“You don’t understand- my son is his _mate._ He’ll be grateful! They haven’t seen eachother in over half a decade! There’s no risk for you in this.” Talia says, gesturing wildly at Derek. The witch gives Derek an unimpressed look. 

 

“Five thousand is my price. No money, no mate. I take half up front, half after. All funds are returned if the ceremony fails.” She says, examining her fingernails. Derek wants to growl. Wants to snap at her. Wants to scream that his mate would never hurt an innocent. But he can’t.

 

So he just says “Done.” And goes to get his checkbook. 

 

______________________

 

The ceremony occurs on a Tuesday morning, when the Hale house is at it’s most empty. The older kids are at school, the younger ones on their weekly ‘exploration’ of the forest, which is mostly just a way of showing them their way around the forest in a safe way. The adult population of the pack doesn’t spend as much time on the territory except for full moons, so the area is relatively empty.

 

Talia purses her lips as the witch takes a pot of charcoal and forms a pentagram on the grass behind the house. She obviously wants to ask if it will come out, but doesn’t want to bother the touchy woman. She does protest, however, when the witch mutters an incantation, and the circle promptly lights on fire. 

 

“What in God’s name are you doing?” she asks, gaping at the fire in her yard. Derek wards away old memories of another fire that was too close to his home. The dark-skinned woman just levels Talia with a bemused look. 

 

“I have to cleanse the ground. And the pentagram works much better if it’s not superficial.” She says, and proceeds to ignore the angry werewolf. Talia sputters, but steps away, watching as the fire slowly dwindles, leaving the grass singed in a permanent star. 

 

Then the Latin starts. 

 

Derek isn’t keen on dead languages, so he doesn’t have the faintest idea what she’s saying, but he knows the general rhythm of the words. The pack had been sent a youtube tutorial, of all things, to learn this. He knows when to step in and pass her an old article of Stiles clothing- a well worn t-shirt.

 

A week after Stiles left, Derek had opened the drawer that was reserved for Stiles in his bedroom. For a few minutes, he had just stared at the remains of his mate.

 

He slept with the clothes on his bed for six months, until every trace of Stiles’ scent was gone. The witch had said it was still good, that scent didn’t matter to her kind.

 

Derek watches numbly as the shirt disintegrates under the witches palms- which seem to glow blue from the inside. She chants for a few more moments, and the center of the pentagram begins to emit a light glow. Derek steps forward again, this time, however, he presents his hand over the witches cupped hands. 

 

He slits his palm open, not feeling the pain at all as it gushes into her waiting palms. When they are full, he pulls away, his mother rushing to his side with the burnt wolfsbane that had tinted to blade. He doesn’t look as the witch drinks his blood. 

 

When he looks back over, her hands are still dripping. 

 

The center of the pentagram is now burning white, and the black-singed earth is becoming lighter, too. She continues to chant, her body nearly completely enveloped in the bluish hue of her power. As the pentagram becomes entirely white, she falls to her knees, but continues chanting.

 

Finally, the entire field seems to white out for a moment. Derek cannot see anything but white, even when he shuts his eyes. When his vision does come back, he sees the witch, hacking up what he assumes is his blood, the pentagram still a frightening bright. Derek gets the slightest scent of something that- that his wolf clutches unto, and he whips his head forwards. 

 

To see a woman in a pantsuit, neat red lipstick, and a clipboard clutched in her palms. She looks at the witch and the gaggle of werewolves behind them with an unimpressed expression. 

 

“Who the hell are _you?_ ” Derek asks, pissed. Where the hell is Stiles? He glares at the witch, who is looking just as confused. 

 

“Where is he?” The witch asks, glancing back at the werewolves behind her, obviously concerned for her own neck. The red head just rolls her eyes. 

 

“If by _he,_ you mean S, you attempted to summon him. As he is a very busy man who doesn’t have time for… crude, to say it best, summonings, you received what he would call his voicemail, and what I would refer to as his secretary. My name is Lydia. Are you in need of any magical services today? If so, I can give you a report file to fill out which you deliver by incinerating. We will have confirmation or denial or your request within a week. If this case is an emergency, please, make it good.” She says, and Derek gapes. 

 

His blood starts to boil, because _this_ is what Stiles is doing? Is S Stiles? Or is S someone who controls Stiles, is forcing him to- go about fixing the needs of anyone. Derek wonders what these missions are. Murder? Maiming? He feels in his heart, somehow, the Stiles is being put in danger. He steps forward, prepared to threaten a response out of this woman, who he is somehow certain is involved in his mates life. 

 

His mother steps forward before he can wrap his claws around this girls neck. She smiles gingerly at Lydia, that smile of an Alpha on a mission. 

 

“I’m not sure that you understand, ma’am. This isn’t a normal sort of call for services. We’re looking to talk with Stiles Stilinski. He’s an old friend.” She says, voice neutral. But at the mention of Stiles’ name, the woman freezes. She seems to do a double take, scanning their faces once again, but seeming to find no recognition among them, she pauses, seeming caught off guard.

 

“I see. Um- if- if you would give me a moment.” She says, then whips out a cell phone. Immediately, she begins to pace. The witch gapes angrily as Lydia effortlessly escapes the pentagram that should have been trapping her. The phone only seems to ring for a moment, and then, Derek is prepared to hear his mates voice for the first time in years. 

 

And yet, he hears nothing. No sound, not even radio static comes from the phone. It’s as if his hearing has failed him. He glances at his mother, and she seems to be in the same predicament, if he can guess by the tilt of her head. 

 

“Stilinski, we have an issue.- No, thats not it, but you took my leftovers? What- Ugh, Whatever- Okay, well, I just got summoned by a witch who wouldn’t know magic if it smacked her upside the head-“ The witch makes a yelling noise at that, glaring at Lydia. “Surrounded by a gaggle of werewolves who- get this- know your real name.” She says, then pauses. She looks confused, suddenly. “Stiles, what? No- They’re no attacking me or anything, why do I need to- No. Stiles!- You can’t just-“ 

 

And suddenly, the call is cut off, because Lydia disappears. She’s just- there one moment, and gone the next. 

 

Derek lets out a vicious growl, shifting and snapping his face to the witch, who is half collapsed on the ground, looking shaken. 

“What the hell was that?” He snarls, stalking towards her. She looks up at him, seeming terrified, but not of him. She stands, suddenly, and begins shoving the items she had used for the ritual into her bag. 

 

“Your money will be transferred back into your account in a few hours. Don’t contact me again. I don’t wan’t any involvement with this. Those- those _people_ are dangerous. If you know what’s best for you, I would keep out of it. Too many have already been trapped in their web.” 

 

Derek is moving forward, prepared to grab her, but just as he reaches out, she disappears in a whirl of black. It leaves a sulfury smell in his nose. He turns to his mother, angry beyond belief. 

 

She’s staring at him with a concerned look. “Derek, I’m not sure if Stiles _wants-_ “ she begins, and Derek can’t bear to hear her say the rest of that sentence, so he cuts her off. 

 

“He wants to see me, Mom, I can feel it. We’re _mates._ Why- it’s been so long, Mom. He can’t just _hate me forever,_ right?” His voice softens towards the end of sentence, and wonders if he really believes what he’s saying. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys, sorry about the wait for this, i was feeling really uninspired with writing as a whole, but i suddenly got overwhelmed with ideas for this story!!! i'm excited to finish it!!! anyways, derek is starting to realize that maybe stiles isn't what he thought. hope to update soon!


	4. Chapter 4

The encounter with Lydia is the closest they get to Stiles for _weeks._

 

They search and search, but it seems like everyone hasn’t the slightest idea who _S_ is. They try to track down the witch again, but the only remnants of her lie in the promised money back in Derek’s bank account. 

 

It’s incredibly frustrating to know that Stiles is _out there_ and Derek can’t do _anything about it._ It feels like when Stiles disappeared all over again, except this time he can’t lose hope, because back then he’d known the statistics. Had known that if someone had encountered a young, pregnant Omega on the streets, anyone with good intentions would have reported it to the police. 

 

And if they didn’t, well. 

 

The statistics didn’t lie. 

 

Derek is losing hope, and he can’t keep it off his mind. He spends an entire six hour flight to New York glaring at the notes on his laptop about Stiles. He can’t think about anything. Writing has become a back burner concept, his publisher sending him angry emails nearly every day now, asking why he’s not responding. He’s half-expecting to get dropped any day now. But it doesn’t matter, because all that matters right now is _Stiles._

 

It becomes his obsession. At this point, he’s been driving around to local supernatural territories and showing Stiles’ photo to anyone who doesn’t immediately kick him out. It’s exhausting, and his family is concerned, which is why he is visiting Laura, who has business in New York. As the future Alpha, her job had to mostly be online, but occasionally she does take trips like this to check up on everything. Derek has no idea what she does- thinks it probably involves taxes, or something.

 

New York is… crowded. The few packs that live there are more clearly defined as gangs- and it’s obvious why they’re so aggressive. Thousands of scents, voices, sights are all coming in at once. For a werewolf, New York is a constant sensory overload. 

 

It’s odd, really, that his first lead on Stiles in months is from a simple coincidence. 

 

Derek is on a coffee run, because Laura’s intern was wearing a tight skirt today, so his sister decided that she doesn’t need to do any work, because she has a perfectly good younger brother to do her job. He doesn’t mind- Laura had taken his electronics and locked them in her desk as soon as he arrived, in the name of ‘family bonding’, so he can’t continue his frantic search for Stiles. 

 

He’s clutching three frapp’s and an espresso, when he does the thing he’d been trying to avoid, and breaths through his nose.

 

First of all, he gets a whiff of the hotdog stand. Meat, relish, ketchup, and mustard invade his nostrils. Next, sweat. Thousands of scents, all unique in their own. Finally, trash. General grossness, all mixed together into a revolting blend that makes Derek wrinkle his nose. 

 

And under it all, Derek scents something he had thought forgotten. 

 

He is brought back to summer nights spent hidden under blankets in the backyard, sweaty and worn out and curled into each other. Of clutching each other in a hug, face buried in the crook of his mate’s neck. Of pleasure rocking through his body, of wanting that scent to become a part of him, wanting his scent to be a part of Stiles’-

 

_Stiles’._

 

Derek leaves the coffee on a bench and _runs._

 

Derek is lucky to have even caught the scent at all. In New York, there are so many layers, that it’s nearly impossible to distinguish anything. The only reason Derek recognized it, likely, is because Stiles’ is his mate. And Derek is _so close._ But he has to find him fast, because tracking in a crowd like this is nearly impossible. 

 

He runs, shoving past people, who cry ‘Asshole!’, but he doesn’t care. He nearly tackles a young girl, frantically scenting, some instictive part of him keeping him from shifting in the middle of New York. 

 

And then he finds the source. 

 

It’s not Stiles. 

 

A blond woman in a skirt suit is walking into a small cafe, and she _reeks_ of his mate. Derek stares after her, paused on the other side of the street. He stands there for at least five minutes, watching her order, sit down, open her laptop, typing away. She makes a phone call, obviously annoyed at the person on the other side of the phone. 

 

When she goes to grab her drink, Derek is broke from his stupor. 

 

He crosses the street, nearly getting hit in the process, beelining for the cafe. He walks in, ignores the scent of pastries and espresso in favor of the woman. He sniffs, and narrows his eyes. 

 

She’s a beta werewolf, Alpha orientation. She looks focused on her work, not glancing away from her screen as she takes a sip of her iced coffee. Derek stands, staring, for a few moment, before she glances up. 

She seems unimpressed. 

 

“Do you need something?” She asks, giving him a stare-down that Derek usually wouldn’t expect from another Alpha. He feels vulnerable, for a moment. But then he squares his shoulders. 

 

“Do you know Stiles Stilinski?” he asks, biting the bullet. She freezes mid-sip, mouth open. Her eyes narrow, and she seems to reassess him. She seems to readjust herself, trying to hide over the fact that she was ruffled by something.

 

“Who’s asking?” She finally asks, casually typing something on his laptop. Derek puts his hands on the table, leaning towards her, towering over the smaller Alpha. 

 

“Derek Hale. Now. Where. Is. He.” He says, voice flat and steady. He expects her to be at least a _little_ intimidated. He’s a big guy, and well, the eyebrows. 

 

She laughs at him. 

 

Derek frowns and leans back, crossing his arms, as the woman grins, leaning back. Finally, after a few seconds of grinning deliriously at him, she gestures for him to sit. He does, if only because he needs answers. And this woman has to be close to Stiles- _too close,_ he thinks, because the only people who smell this much like each other are family members and mates.

 

He hopes their relationship is closer to the former. 

 

“Derek, you said? So what’s your beef with Stiles? You know, we have a whole department for complaining. Not that I’m not terribly interested in a hormonal werewolf’s musings.” She says, casually taking a long sip of her drink and seemingly reading an email. 

 

“He’s my mate.” he says, miffed, hoping for a reaction out of her. The woman continues sipping her coffee, seeming unfazed by his revelation. She stares at him cooly for a moment, then starts inspecting her nails. Derek wants to rip her throat out. 

 

“And?” she says, after a moment. Derek, subtly, let’s his eyes flash in a display of aggression. He glares, hoping to communicate without words what he wants.

 

“You know what, fine. You seem terribly interested in meeting up with him- that is what you want, right?” She asks. Derek gives a small nod. “…Right. Well, I think we can mutually benefit one another. You see, I’m just _terribly_ interested in that mysterious past of his, and unfortunately, he hasn’t been forthcoming about it. So, let’s make a deal. You show me who Stiles Stilinski was to you, and I show you him.” She says, finally turning and giving him her full attention. 

 

Derek doesn’t like this Alpha. He gets a bad vibe from her, and he wonders, suddenly, if she’s perhaps the one keeping Stiles from him. And maybe his past is the only thing Stiles won’t give up to her- maybe he doesn’t want this woman having contact with the people he cares about. 

 

But Derek needs to see Stiles. He _has_ to, because if his mate is in danger, he has to help. And this woman is the closest he’s gotten so far. 

 

“How do you know Stiles? Are you his… boss?” he asks, trying to ask, in a subtle manner, if she’s the one controlling his mate. 

 

The woman laughs, light and airy. “You could say that.” Her gaze is wicked, and her heart is steady, and that’s all Derek needs to hear. 

 

He reaches his hand forward. 

  
“Deal.” 

 

She smiles, slightly, and slips her sharp-nailed palm into his. They shake on it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! so i'm making a few editations to the last chapter specifically, and going over the whole fic so far. i DID change a small but vital moment in the interaction with Lydia, it's just one involving lydia staring at dereks eyes, so if you remember that, FORGET IT BC IT FUCKS UP MY PLOT PLANS OKAY. also, if you can't tell, the woman in this scene is erica. thanks for all the support!


	5. five

Derek fiddles with the card that he had been given after the odd cafe meeting. 

 

_Erica Reyes._ Following it is a phone number, which Derek had called, after a day of wondering how long he had to wait before calling her. 

 

Apparently, Erica has a flexible schedule, because she’s currently sprawled across the floor of Derek’s childhood bedroom, which has been since converted to his mother’s hoarding closet. Erica, for whatever reason, had wanted to see pictures of Stiles as a kid. 

 

At the moment, she lingers at a photo of Stiles wearing a faerie costume- all the Omega’s in his grade at school had worn them for the school play, and his mother had thought he was so adorable that she insisted that he put it back on for pictures.

 

Erica hasn’t said much up until now, mostly making demands and laughing to herself, occasionally snapping a photo of a photo on her phone. Finally, seeming settled into sorting through the boxes of pictures, she starts to speak. 

 

“So, what happened?” she says, simple, and Derek thinks that the short answer is that _he_ happened. It’s such a small question, but it asks so much of him. And really, when he tries to piece it all together, he still has _no idea._

  
“Stiles ran away.” He says, deflecting. He doesn’t like this Alpha. Doesn’t want her to use anything Derek says against Stiles. 

 

“He ran away.” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, wanna elaborate on that?” She asks, shuffling her photos like a deck of cards. 

 

“That’s Stiles story to tell.” Derek says, after a moment. He’s surprised to find he’s being truthful. Even if he has selfish reasons for keeping the information from Erica, he likes to think that he wouldn’t ever tell someone close to him this story, either. Erica tilts her head at him, assessing. After a moment, she looks back down. 

 

“Good answer.” Is her eventual response, thumbing at a photo of Derek and Stiles, Stiles being held aloft bridal style, both of them proudly presenting Ring Pops, a symbol of their very official marriage at the age of five and eight. Stiles’ has a bite out of it already.

 

“You guys were cute.” She says, gesturing towards the myriad of photos form a box labeled _Derek and Stiles Volume 13._ His father is very fond of taking photos, and his mother is very fond of keeping them.

 

“Yeah. Cute.” Derek says, bitter. Because he and Stiles were so much more than _cute._ They were everything to one another. They were _perfect._ And Derek ruined it. He sighs, scratching the side of his face, trying to do what he’s done for the past five years: not think about it. 

 

When he finally glances up, Erica is staring at him. He can’t read her expression. She looks away before he can, so he doesn’t dwell on it. 

 

They spend more time in silence, Erica digging through photos, taking pictures on her phone, Derek sitting silently and sometimes letting his eyes linger on photos of his mate. After a while, Erica stands, and Derek follows. 

 

“It’s getting late.” She says, almost apologetic. Derek just nods, leading her out of the room and down the stairs. The pack is home, only a few of them knowing what the strange werewolf is doing in their home. The rest stare, and Derek feels there eyes on the back of his head, likely judging him. Like they think he’s in some sort of relationship with Erica. He could laugh at that. He hasn’t dated anyone since Kate. 

 

They stand on the porch for a few moments, Erica looking constipated, as if she wants to say something. Derek doesn’t want to discourage her, so he stays silent. Finally, she opens her mouth. 

 

Her phone rings.

 

She pulls it out, frowning. Derek isn’t able to help himself- he reads the caller ID. _batman._ His heartbeat spikes, because he knows who that has to be. He remembers nights spent watching DC movies, getting into arguments about the cool level of various superheros, and the forever _Marvel vs. DC_ debate that waged between he and Stiles. 

 

Erica declines the call, and goes to speak again. 

 

Except this time, they are interrupted by a howl in the distance. 

 

The Hale pack has a set of rules, and everyone knows that for them, howling is always a signal. The full moon is the only time they are allowed to do it for recreation. So, hearing that in the distance, obviously from someone who was patrolling, means _there is an issue._

 

Talia is outside before Derek can even make a step towards the noise. 

 

In seconds, they are sprinting, and Derek registers Erica following them. He shifts, in order to run faster, tearing through brush, narrowly avoiding tree stumps, because a howl could mean anything. It could mean someone just got shot through the head. It could be a small threat. It could mean that someone has run a circle of wolfsbane around the territory, in preparation to light the house on fire with everyone in it. 

 

Derek stumbles into a clearing near the edge of the territory, senses on height by the noise of his Alpha growling. He whips his head upwards, and- 

 

Hunters. Decked out in their usual gear, heavy guns and giant flashlights. 

 

“Get off my territory.” Talia says, voice snarled and angry. She stands ahead of them, prepared to protect her pack at all costs. Derek sees Hal, the wolf who was on perimeter duty, backing away from the hunters to join his Alpha. 

 

A man, obviously the leader of this little pack, steps forward. 

 

“You’re housing a pack that we have quarrel with. On top of that, you’ve issued a state of war against us. So, no, I think we’ll stay until we can sort. this. out.” He says, voice cutting, southern drawl prevalent. He holds the gun as if he is completely prepared to use it. 

 

“We issues a statement that if you were to continue to encroach on the territory of innocent packs, you would face consequences. We made no statement of hostility.” Talia says, glaring. Derek is so focused on his Alpha’s words, that he doesn’t see Erica step forward. 

 

“Are you licensed?” She asks, looking haughty. She holds her hands on her hips, and Derek is reminded of the day he met her. The hunters glance at each other shuffling. 

 

“We don’t pertain to your folks rules. Humans don’t get enough vote in your proceedings, like.” He says, looking uncomfortable. Then, he turns to Talia. “You didn’t say you were associated with the corporates. This is pack business, you ain’t got no right to be involving them types.” He says, looking at Erica like a particularly pesky fly. 

 

Talia gapes at Erica, obviously confused. 

 

“We’re not associated with _any-_ “ She starts, but it cut off my Erica. Brave, for a beta. 

 

“Hale Pack, associate number 001, under the certification of _The Coalition for Unity,_ they were not made aware beforehand that a representative would be here.” Erica, slowly, walks towards them, past Talia, their guns swinging to follow her as she goes to stand next to the leader.

 

“ However, we highly recommend that in order to avoid bloodshed, a report is filed and a case is made. In the rare event that we consider any supernatural being worth of execution, any of our number of trained and certified hunters will be contacted. Not certified hunters are subject to prosecution-“ She says, voice quick and neat. Derek tries to catch onto words, trying to make sense of what she is talking about. He glances at his mother, who looks just as confused. 

 

Erica is cut off when a gun is aimed at her head. She doesn’t flinch, just frowns at it like it’s a pesky fly. 

 

“We don’t take kind to your kind trying to go around policing us, ya see. We got our code, and we follow it. Ain’t no werewolf gonna change that. Not even if you try to involve that crazy ass bitch or that low-level fucking mage that runs your shit.” He says, angry. 

 

Erica suddenly adopts a feral grin. 

 

“Crazy ass bitch? C’mon, sweety, you can at least be original. I love it when they call me sweet things.” She says, mocking his southern accent as she does so.

 

In a split second, there is a gunshot, and Erica grunts, the only revelation that she has been shot in the shoulder from behind. She keels over, half shifted, pissed. The woman behind her looks terrified, her gun still pointed at Erica. The man swings to the woman, furious.

 

“Jesus Christ Sandy, what in God’s name- we’re going to get in deep shit for that, you know what happens to people who fuck with-“ He freezes midway through, a flash of light behind him. Dereks eyes flicker over, and he freezes too at the face he sees in the shadows. 

 

“You rang?” asks Stiles Stilinski as he steps into the light. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stiles has arrived!!! okay, so i know this is VERY confusing at the moment, but it's meant to be. also, ik the pregnancy hasn't rlly been mentioned at all, but that's bc i want derek to have a kinda 'oh ya lol' moment, bc at the moment he's mostly focused on stiles and he doesn't rlly give a shit abt anything else, his spawn or otherwise. the next chapter will probably explain a few things, like what stiles has been up to. this fanfic is getting LONG, lol. ive never rlly had enough passion abt a fic to get very long w it, so im rlly excited abt this!!! THIS IS STILL GOING TO BE A KID FIC, i swear, this is just also some slow ass burn. im kinda doing this is chunks, theres probably like??? six or so chunks i want to have, and i would say this is only the end of the first. SO THIS MIGHT BE KINDA LONG, sorry.


End file.
